Too Close
by Hannalore Dayne
Summary: Sequel to "As Close As You'll Ever Get." Walking in the dark... You know, like singing in the rain, but different... Warning: You won't get it unless you read the other story (hint hint).
1. Surprise

Home was too well-lit.

Clark's brain felt water-logged and wrung out at the same time. Lurking in the forest, watching the beacons of yellow light pour from the windows, he felt as if the lamps were forcing him away from his house. The friendly glow reminded him ominously of meteor-rocks. He shook his head at himself. In the back of his head he knew the real reason he didn't want to enter that door.

He would walk inside with a somber expression. There was no way he would be able to smile, not after what had happened. His parents would come up. Maybe they wouldn't notice at first. Did you have a good time, Clark? Why did they ask you to stay? Was the meal good? Then they would notice his look and his unwillingness to answer questions. Clark, what's wrong? Are you okay? Oh, honey, what happened? Tell us all about it. Lana troubles, son? His father, especially, he did not want to talk to. He never understood what Clark was feeling.

Clark realized he was walking away. _They won't mind,_ his head argued. _They don't know when you're coming home anyway. You could just… walk around a while. Get your head together._ He was too tired to argue with himself. His feet carried him to the road. He didn't know where he was going. The darkness of night was broken by pinhole stars, hundreds, thousands in the black, all overshadowed by the rip in the sky that humankind knew as the moon. That's what it had always looked like to Clark. A rip, a tear, as if someone had peeled back the black façade and the moon was a glimpse of what the sky was really like. That was how he felt sometimes. Like the sky.

A turn in the road, the crunch of gravel, and he had passed his parents' property. He was on public land now, heading towards the town. He couldn't muster the energy to run, and anyway, where would he run to? Smallville? Metropolis? Europe? No, he would just walk. Walk and think. The feel of her lips still burned his mouth, and he could have pointed to where her fingers were on his neck. The memory warmed him, and at the same time hurt. He didn't have a watch, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes ago that he was in Lana's arms, finally holding her the way he had always dreamed.

He was walking faster.

"What are you running from?" he asked aloud.

"You tell me," said a voice.

He whirled around. The night screamed.

In front of him stood Lex Luthor.

His shock subsided. "Lex!" he nearly gasped. "Don't do that to people."

"Sorry," said his older friend. "I didn't know anyone else was out here."

"Neither did I!" Clark said, still smarting from his surprise.

Lex stepped forward. They could barely see each other by the moon's light.

"So what are you running from?" he asked.

"Um," Clark said. "Monsters."

Lex stared at him, then laughed. "You've got a weird sense of humor, you know that?" He shook his head and turned serious. "But really."

Clark ignored him. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I was coming to see you, actually. I wanted to ask you some questions. But now," he spread his arms, "here you are! Walk with me." He started towards Clark's house.

"Let's not go that way," Clark said hurriedly.


	2. Obsession

Lex stopped and looked at him quizzically. "Parent problems?"

"Sort of," Clark said evasively. "Where's your car?"

Lex shook his head and walked back to Clark. "Given my track record… guess."

"You crashed it?"

"No, I drove it into a ditch. My dealer can't send in a new one till tomorrow, and no offense, but I'd rather not drive a tractor all day long. It would send the wrong kind of messages." He grinned.

Clark grinned back. "I think this is a sign that you should start driving safely."

"What? And stop giving my dealer heart attacks? Every time I almost die, he almost loses half his business. On the other hand, every time I crash a car he sells another. _He_ loves my driving skills. Thinks very highly of them." His sardonic smile cheered Clark, until it faded. Lex looked at him seriously. "I wanted to ask you some questions about when you saved my life, Clark."

Clark looked down. His feet were moving monotonously, as if he wasn't even telling them to walk.

"Clark. Are you listening?"

For a moment he wanted to tell him everything. I can fly, Lex. I can see through walls, I can pick up cars. I can run faster than the speed of sound. "Yeah, I'm listening."

"My team created a computer-simulation. Very interesting, what they found. The exact trajectory of the roof when it came off suggests… that it was _torn_ off."

Clark stopped walking. "By what?"

Lex looked him straight in the eye. "You tell me."

Clark scoffed lightly. His stomach roiled. "How would I know?" He swallowed in the following silence.

Lex seemed to be trying to think. "Clark, I've gone over that day a hundred times in my head. I've thought about it, and I've thought- hell, Clark, I've even had _dreams_ about that day. It's stuck in my head and I can't figure out why I lived." He stared at Clark. "The only variable is you."

His heart was pounding. Lex had come closer than anyone else to discovering his secret. He was the only person Clark had ever come into contact with who wouldn't let it go. He was too close. "So- so what are you saying, Lex… _I_ tore the roof off your car?" He injected as much ridicule as he could into the phrase.

Lex didn't laugh. "What I'm saying is that you're holding something back," he said seriously. "You're not telling me everything."

His words hung solidly in the air between them. Clark could see each one, each letter, each tone they were uttered in. He couldn't dissemble. Tonight was the wrong night for Lex Luthor to ask questions. "Let it go, Lex," he said. "Please."

"No," Lex said. His tone had taken on an edge. "You just confirmed it. I won't stop, Clark. I don't care who I hurt or what I uncover. I will find out how I lived. You have to understand, Clark, it's become an _obsession_ for me. I _can't_ let it go." Each word was spit out like he was forcing them from his gut, and Clark was suddenly frightened.

"Lex, if you stay on this road…" Clark said in a near whisper. "You will hurt people. I guarantee it. I'm not saying," he said quickly, "that I'm hiding anything. And Lex, if I was…" he tried to phrase his words in a way that would not hurt his secret, not hurt Lex, not hurt anyone. "Then if I thought I could tell you- _anyone,_" he corrected himself, "I would." Lex said nothing. "Believe me, I would."

"Fine." Lex's tone had become bitter. He knew he had lost. Clark suddenly had visions of Lex as a young child, throwing a game board across the room because he didn't win. Lex started walking backwards and turned as he talked, away from Clark. "I'll find out with or without your help," he shouted. He was already fairly far.

Clark realized suddenly that he was walking towards his own house. "Don't tell them you saw me!" he shouted on a sudden impulse. Lex was angry, but his confusion mingled comically on his face as he disappeared into the blackness. "Please," Clark sighed. There was no help for it. He had to go home to warn his parents. Taking a deep breath, he took off at a dead run, giving Lex's path a wide berth.


	3. Conversations

His parents were turning off the lights when he poured into the doorway like a breeze.

His mother looked up. "Clark, you're home." She half-smiled. "And what an entrance! What's the hurry?"

He took off his jacket. "Lex is coming," he said.

Martha Kent frowned. "Why?"

"To ask you about me," he said. He pursed his lips. "He met me on the road and asked… questions."

"Dangerous questions?" Martha said, almost joking.

"Yeah."

She shrugged. "Well, thanks for the warning." She turned back to clearing the table, then stopped. "How was dinner?"

"Good," he said noncommittally. "Mom, Lex is almost there."

She looked up apprehensively. "There… where?"

"He's almost there, he's almost got it. Mom," he let out half a breath explosively, "he's got teams of scientists examining his car day and night, computer programs calculating what happened to the roof! How long before he just… understands?"

His mother stared at him, then looked down. "I don't know, Clark… we'll just have to hold him off as long as we can. Hopefully forever," she added.

"Maybe I could just… tell him," Clark said quietly.

At that Martha stopped working and gave him That Look.

"Well, I mean," Clark felt very defensive. "Where's Dad?"

"Stop changing the subject. What are you saying, Clark?" she looked at him, half-sympathetic, half-disapproving. "You can't tell anyone, let alone Lex."

"Maybe he could help figure out where my parents were from," Clark suggested wildly. "I mean, he's got teams of scientists on a car, so it wouldn't be too hard to work on a spaceship, right?"

His mother's melting sympathy gave him the itch to run again. "Clark…" she said gently. "You can't…"

A knock on the door froze them both. "That's Lex," said Clark urgently. "Don't tell him I'm here!" He was gone before the second knock came.

From his room he watched his bewildered mother answer the door and let Lex in. Through the floor he watched his friend enter and take Martha's offer to sit. _I wonder what he'll ask_, he thought. _I wonder what she'll say._

Since he couldn't hear a word they were saying, he stopped watching when they left the living room to walk in the barn. It was straining his eyes anyway. His room was deathly silent. He stared at his walls for a while, then looked out the window. He blinked. Walking towards his house was Lana Lang. He put two and two together and knew why she was here and what would happen if Lex got a chance to pump her. If nothing else, she would watch Clark more carefully, and he didn't want that.

He ran downstairs as only he could, trying to be quiet. He slowed as he approached his front door and opened it as if he had just been strolling out for some air.

"Lana!" he said as she approached his porch.

She smiled a bit regretfully. Clark instantly hated that look. He wished he hadn't seen it. "Sorry to stop by so late," she said.

"No problem," he said. "I was just stepping out. Walk with me?"

She shrugged. "Sure." He joined her and they started down the dirt path to the main road. When they were a short distance away, Lana said uncomfortably, "Clark…"

He looked at her. She was looking down, too embarrassed to look at him. "You want to talk about what happened?" he asked gently. I_ don't,_ he thought. _I don't want to be patronized._


	4. Boys Don't Cry

The moon stared at them. Clark wanted to reach up and widen the tear, unveil the rest of the sky and perhaps find different colors, different faces, different powers…

Lana shook her head, hair swinging in the dark. "I'm so sorry, Clark, for acting like such an idiot."

"You didn't, Lana. You were upset. I understand, believe me. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't!" She interrupted suddenly. "_Don't_ patronize me. Please!" She stared at him. He stared back, surprised. "It was _not_ your fault. It was mine. I don't have an excuse for everything, you know." She gestured with her arms. "I _do_ the wrong thing sometimes. And… kissing… you, Clark, was the wrong thing to do then." She pursed her lips. "I'm sorry."

__

Why? He thought, heart aching. _Why is it the wrong thing?_ He nodded slowly. "I accept," he said with almost comical seriousness. But Lana was not finished.

"I shouldn't have made you stay, either… I involved you in my personal fight and it was wrong. I should have let you go. It was awkward and embarrassing for you and it didn't help me to work things out." Clark couldn't tell if she was talking to him or herself. "Can you forgive me?" They had stopped walking. Her face was tilted up towards his, a round, pale glimpse of something far too ethereal and lovely. He wanted to say _No. No, I cannot forgive you because I love you, and you can't kiss me and then take it back._ But what came out of his mouth was "What's to forgive?" His smile was tinged with sadness. "It's already forgotten."

She hugged him then, and he almost cried out. It was like she was totally deaf to what he was feeling. "Thank you, Clark," she said warmly. "You're such a good friend." The irony made him want to cry.

"Of course I am," he murmured bitterly.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

They continued to walk in silence for a few minutes. "Clark?" Lana asked softly after a while.

"Yeah?"

She didn't say anything for a minute. When she spoke he could hear the apprehension in her voice. "Do you have feelings for me?"

The apprehension echoed the embarrassed smile he had seen on her before. After his answer, should it be yes, would come the strained polite excuses to leave and the guilty avoidance later, at school or around the town. She would feel bad but would not want to be around someone that she was not interested in- and who was interested in her.

"No." He said. His voice trembled slightly, almost cracked, but he managed to say it without giving away the enormous lie he was painting so thinly.

She nodded. For a split second she seemed disappointed. Had he misjudged? His heart jumped. Did she want him after all? Did she-

"That's good," she said. "I wouldn't want anything to- to interfere with our friendship." He couldn't see her expression as they passed under a tree. Of course. Just friends. Bitterness welled up again and he bit his lip. In one night he had shed more tears than in the rest of his life. He was not going to do it again. _Boys don't cry,_ he told himself fiercely. _They _don't. He swallowed.

"Me neither," he said so quietly that he wasn't sure she heard him. He wanted a stretch of land, a stretch of _forever_ where he could run, where he could run and run and not worry about love and secrets. "Lana?" It was all going to come out. Words would tumble and pour out of his mouth until he stuttered to a stop and all of his secrets would be lying on the ground where she could pick them up.

She looked at him seriously. "Yes, Clark?"

They stared at each other for a long time. Then he looked down.

"Never mind."


	5. The Sky Is Torn

He walked her home and they parted with an awkward hug. Tingling, he had to take a deep breath before he could make himself walk away from her doorstep. He shook himself briefly and raced down the path to his own house to see what had become of his mother, left alone with Lex.

"Mom?" He called once he was in the doorway.

"Clark?" Her voice was coming from upstairs. "I'm up here!"

He mounted the stairs and found Martha in his room, looking at a book of his baby pictures. "How'd it go?" he asked, sitting next to her on his bed.

She shrugged. "Lex asked some questions. He's very subtle for a boy his age! If I hadn't been alert, I wouldn't have noticed he was asking anything." She gave a half-smile. "And you? I saw you walk out with Lana…" she left it trailing.

It was Clark's turn to shrug. "She kissed me after dinner."

Martha's eyes widened. "Well, what did you do?"

"She asked me to leave. She showed up just now and apologized." He looked down. "Not that she had to."

His mother put an arm around him and squeezed. "Oh, Clark… I'm sure that must have been hard for you. I'm sorry."

Clark shook his head. "It's okay, Mom. She doesn't know how I feel, so I can't blame her for…" He left it open. For everything, he wanted to say. For killing me a little bit more every day. Suddenly he almost laughed. "You know, I've spent all this time trying to get closer to Lana," he said. "Every time I actually do, it seems like it's too close. Something always happens."

"This may seem impossible, but I know how you feel, honey," his mom said with a warm smile. "And who knows? Maybe things with Whitney will cool down."

"Maybe," he said. "Is that me in a _bonnet?_"

Martha looked down at the book and laughed. "Well, yes. Nell thought it would be cute…"

They talked for a while and looked at pictures. By the time his mother got up and went to bed, Clark had managed to forget some of what had happened that night. He changed and slid under the covers. As he pulled the blanket under his chin, something out of the window caught his eye-- the moon. The rip in the sky shone on the boy who was different, proclaiming that for better or worse, the real sky was gleaming through the cracks, and the cracks would only get bigger with time.


End file.
